


Whiskey Storm

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [54]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Don't copy to another site, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Stephen Strange, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has Issues, really really slooooowwww burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: As Tony and Stephen learn to deal with the trauma of Titan, they find themselves finding solace in new connections.Wtf even is that summary?





	Whiskey Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this story has been in progress for awhile, though it is completely mapped out and nearly finished. I decided to say fuck it and post the first chapter to get my ass in gear with the rest. 
> 
> This will not affect Madness and Carnage updates, which is nearly done.

   When Stephen stepped into Tony Stark’s penthouse no more then thirty-six days after the battle and defeat on Titan, he was met with a sight that was both disquieting and utterly predictable. He hadn’t interacted with the Avengers beyond three meetings and a half a dozen slammed doors on recruiters, since the attack, and only a quarter of all those involved Ironman. In many ways he was grateful, the last thing he wanted was to have some ridiculous heart to heart about his decision to give the Time Stone to Thanos, and the last thing the world of Kamar-Taj needed was added attention since the disaster. Accordingly, he had been keeping a low profile, and it seemed Ironman had been as well, noticeably vacant from the news articles, photos, and press release statements.

   In the end it was perhaps naïve to think Tony Stark would be on vacation in some tropical country in order to sooth his trauma, Stephen certainly wasn’t. No, the man currently swaying on the balcony was obviously, remarkably drunk, made evident by the bottle being cradled in his hand, his unsteady feet, and the unhappy glare being directed at the sky. Stephen almost expected the man to start yelling and cursing at the stars, or space, or whatever. As he watched Tony stumble to the railing Stephen found himself strangely jealous of the man’s lack of care or propriety, he wished he could forget the thousands of futures on repeat in the back of his mind, the trauma of Dormammu, heck even Wong’s bloody nagging that morning through the bliss provided by alcohol.

   It was at that moment Tony suddenly chucked his now empty bottle off the balcony with a frustrated cry. Stephen figured it was a good indicator that he should step in, he was here for a reason after all. He had been directed to provide a statement to the Avengers officially declaring that there would no longer be any involvement or contact with their world and to kindly stop trying to find their training grounds with their big fancy satellites since it wouldn’t work. Delivering the message, however, looked to be less and less likely, as he slid the door open and stepped out into the clear evening air.

   Tony swung around to face him, lips already twisted into a snarl, only to falter upon realizing who it was. Stephen remained silent as Tony squinted at him, a hand coming up to rub his eyes as though he were seeing a mirage.

   “Strange?”

   Stephen held back an exasperated sigh, there was no point in reminding the man that he was a doctor since he would just forget later. Instead he offered a wry smile, “I feel the urge to remind you that you are standing above a city right now Stark, could have just hit someone.”

   Tony shook his head, completely unbothered. “Force field stuff, nanotech.” His words only slurred slightly, a shocking feat at this point.

   Stephen quirked an amused eyebrow. “Right and what about the press?”

   “Who cares?”

   Of course, what did Tony Stark care about the press? They had probably already run every story conceivable at that point and a drunk Ironman stumbling around his balcony was hardly exciting news. “Not you apparently.”

   Tony came closer, wobbling a little on his feet until he reached a small bench and sat heavily on it. Stephen was still several paces away, but he swore he could smell the alcohol wafting off the man, it was undeniably hard liquor. Tony leaned back and ran assessing eyes up and down Stephen who frowned at the man, thought about just making a portal and disappearing until a better time.

   “Haven’t see you around much,” Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “Still holed up in that museum of yours?”

   Stephen detected a thin layer of bitterness under the guise of genuine curiosity, and jesus christ this man was functioning way too well considering how drunk he was. He met the man’s gaze with his own harsh one, “Working, more then could be said for you the past few weeks.”

   Tony’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know? Last I remember you weren’t at the damage control meetings, weren’t using any of that magic mumbo jumbo to rebuild infrastructure, weren’t there when Peter was asking all sorts of questions about the Soul Stone, weren’t even there to explain why you fucking gave up it up to begin with.” His tone had grown increasingly agitated and in direct response Stephen felt the Cloak flaring slightly behind him.

   Stephen himself took a careful breath. The meetings he had attended were certainly not about damage control, just briefings and reassurances that Thanos was dead, him and the other Sorcerers had far more pressing concerns then details that would be soundly handled by the Avengers. It was the other thing that Tony had just touched on that made him stiffen, Stephen had, in fact, been avoiding Tony and even Peter since the return, going so far as to stand on the other side of the room or keeping others present at all times. He wasn’t ignorant of course, knew how desperate the man was for answers, but that didn’t mean Stephen was ready to give them.

   So, he reminded himself that Tony was very drunk and what little filter he had was completely erased in the wake of it. There was no use in starting an argument now, no matter how much he itched to, it would get them nowhere. Stephen chose to see it as a sign of personal progress when he calmly addressed Tony’s angry expression.

   “I am simply going to remind you that I am not an Avenger Stark. Now I suggest you go and sleep off all that alcohol, so you’ll be half coherent in the morning.”

   Tony scoffed. “You aren’t my mother or my doctor Strange, you can’t tell me what to do.”

   Stephen allowed his eyes to run up and down Tony’s form for a moment, taking in his dishevelled appearance that was unfairly flattering on the man. He wore oil stained sweatpants and tank top, highlighting the subtle muscles roped along his arms, his hair was a mess as though he had been obsessively running a hand through it all night, and he was undeniably handsome in the darkness, illuminated only by the penthouse lighting.

   Instead of all that Stephen allowed his eyes to turn scathing, “unfortunate, since it looks like you need one. You’re acting like a pathetic drunk, and what’s worse I’m not even surprised.”

   Tony frowned, hand resting over his heart. “Ouch Strange, and you called _me_ the douchbag.”

   Stephen didn’t honor that with a response. “I’ll come back when you’re sober and have your shit together.”

   There was a pause as Stephen turned away, intent on returning to the Sanctuary, letter still tucked securely under his arm. Then oh so quietly, as though afraid Stephen would actually hear him, Tony called out to him.

   “Wait. Please.”

   A glance over his shoulder showed Tony’s entire demeanor had changed, as it tended to do under the influence. He was slumping now, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists, his tone was pleading and desperate.

   “Stay, I…could use company.”

   Stephen turned around, incredulous. “Stark I’m probably the last person you want to spend time with.”

   The side of his mouth crooked up. “Don’t sell yourself short. At least you won’t make me talk about my feelings, or try to take my alcohol away, or coddle me.”

   “Is that what people usually do?”

   “Depends on the person, but its all equally annoying,” he admitted.

   Stephen stared at him a moment, mind spinning unbearably. As always there was a reel of images just waiting behind his eyes and if Stephen was honest the last thing he wanted was to go home and fall asleep only to relive the horrors in his subconscious. Yet, he also wasn’t particularly fond of taking care of a drunk Tony Stark, especially with his attitude. Then of course there was the fact that staying would directly contradict the letter waiting to be delivered, and he knew he shouldn’t be spending any more time with this man because it would make it too tempting to fall into the traps of memory still plaguing him. He was struggling, even now remembering which timeline he was in.

   The indecision must have been obvious because Tony seemed to perk up like a dog certain to get a treat in a few moments. “Please? I promise to start drinking coffee from this moment on, sober up a bit.”

   Against every instinct he had screaming that this would be at best a waste of time and at worst a crafty scheme to ask all the questions floating in Tony’s eyes, Stephen found himself nodding cautiously.

   A brilliant smile lit up Tony’s face and he jumped up, stumbling again. “Don’t worry, all the annoying stuff like trauma, Titan, and the Avengers will be off limits.”

   Relief, profound and wonderful flowed through him as he followed a now giddy Tony Stark back inside.

\----

   True to form he and Tony had spent the whole evening talking about the inanest things from his most recent project to Stephen’s taste in music. It was oddly comforting to have a normal conversation for the first time in a month, even if it was with a person who Stephen would normally not willingly associate with. As of late every word to come out of his mouth was either a detailed explanation of what happened on Titan, always leaving him itching in his own skin, or intense debates over the next step to protect a weakened Kamar-Taj against interdimensional attacks in the aftermath. Their conversation, in comparison, had been a breath of fresh air.

   But that had been five days ago, five days since Tony had nodded off on the couch, five days since the Cloak had obligingly carried him to his bedroom, and five days since Stephen had left the letter in plain sight that all contact had to stop between Sorcerers and the Avengers, barring an emergency.

   As he hovered in the sitting room, preparing to meditate, Stephen was disgusted with himself to find he missed the man. Wong had helpfully pointed out that it was likely because he was the only man who could match Stephen’s egotistical, neurotic self, which he took as a compliment, and because Stephen had simply finally gotten out of the Sanctuary. He chose not to believe either one, chalking it up to exhaustion and amusement.

   That didn’t stop him from sucking in a shocked breath when he swung the door open to the Sanctuary that afternoon to find Tony standing on the stoop. He been expecting a fellow Master, not an Avenger. It was somewhat disorienting to see Tony dressed impeccably in a tailored grey suit, sunglasses, and very stable on his feet, though his hair was as dishevelled as ever.

   “Strange,” he greeted with a wide smile.

   Stephen stared for a moment, before he managed to rally and retain his usual stoicism. “Stark.”

   There was a pause, and Tony raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at where Stephen’s trembling hand still gripped the door. “Care to let me in?”

   “Not really.”

   Tony blinked, barely visible behind his sunglasses but Stephen felt a small victory well inside him, taking the man off guard. “I promise I’m not drunk this time.” He offered.

   It was Stephen’s turn to blink. If he was honest, he had expected Tony to have completely forgotten about that evening. It certainly wasn’t memorable, and when he passed out it had been quite extensive, nodding off mid-sentence.

   Stephen realized he wanted to let him in, inexplicably eager for more of the man’s quick wit and easy banter. Why was beyond him, maybe he really had been deprived of socialization for too long, he would hate to admit Wong was right. Regardless, what he wanted in this case was inconsequential, there was no reason for him to be here except business and the letter had stated their stance quite clearly, and Stephen couldn’t really disagree with it.

   “Did you not read the letter I left for you?”

   His mouth opened in a “oh” gesture that looked utterly ridiculous on him. He suddenly reached into his jacket to pull out a rolled-up piece of paper that was definitely not the letter he left for him. “I did actually, and SHIELD does not accept the terms but are ready to negotiate.”

   Stephen was back to staring at him incredulously. “You do realize that was not a contract invitation?”

   Tony smiled lightly. “Yeah, but that doesn’t change their answer.” He paused and glanced around him wearily. “Listen, I know you guys hate exposure and all that so do you think you could let me in, so we can discuss this properly before I draw attention to your hideout?”

   Stephen debated for all of ten seconds before he stepped back abruptly, freeing the doorway for the man to enter. He shot him a grateful smile and ducked in, immediately moving deeper into the Sanctuary. Stephen closed the door and watched as Tony’s attention was immediately taken by the closest relic, a jaw bone carefully encased in amber. He bent slightly to peer at it and Stephen valiantly kept his eyes on the man’s back instead of his ass.

   “Sitting room.” Stephen stated loudly, leading the way and glancing back only once to make sure he was being followed. It seemed it was not only socialization that Stephen was lacking, but he could also blame it on the fact that Tony Stark was undeniably, objectively attractive. A thought he was absolutely not allowed to indulge in.

   He motioned at a chair, noted that Tony stared at it wearily for exactly three seconds before sitting. Stephen struggled not roll his eyes, it wasn’t the first time Tony had been in the Sanctuary since Thanos. He had come with Nick Fury’s initial attempt to recruit him but had silently stood there and watched the whole time, eyes blank and unseeing.

   As soon as the man sat, Stephen got straight to business, more then a little irritated by the roll of paper still clutched in his hand. “I suppose my first question is why did they send you? And second, can nobody at SHIELD read?”

   Tony frowned, clearly thrown off by Stephen immediately launching into it. “Well…I imagine its because you delivered it to me, so they must think we have some type of familiarity and I would be the best bet to convince you.”

   Stephen shook his head. “You were the easiest to find.”

   Tony shrugged. “Still. As for reading, I have my doubts, but I think this is just a case of pure stubbornness. They don’t want to lose your potential.”

   Stephen sighed, trembling hands gripping one another in his lap. “Well let’s make this simple then. The answer is no to all and any terms.”

   Tony’s frown deepened and his words from five night ago floated up in Stephen ears. The accusations that Sorcerers weren’t doing enough in the aftermath, hadn’t been helping anybody but themselves. Ignorance, the lot of it, but it didn’t make Stephen look at Tony any kinder when his expression hardened.

   He raised his hands as if telling Stephen to slow down. “Listen a minute. At least take a look at what their offering, I think its perfectly reasonable. Definitely a better deal then most Avengers get.”

   Stephen carefully built his usual frosty expression, couldn’t for the life of him remember why he wanted to let Tony enter the Sanctuary in the first place. “No.”

   Tony’s jaw clenched for a moment, eyes hard and Stephen prepared for an irate Ironman, self-righteous and aloof. Instead, the look lingered there for a moment before it slowly seeped away on a quiet exhale. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as though pulling himself together. Stephen couldn’t help but watch in fascination.

   “Ok.”

   Stephen blinked. “Ok?”

   Tony nodded, tucking the paper back into his jacket. “I get it. Sorcerers work alone, save the world alone, make decisions alone.” Ah, there was the bitterness, softened only by his relaxed posture.

   Stephen wasn’t oblivious, he knew it was a jab at his decision to give Thanos the Time Stone without explaining the plan to Tony first, but just like the night before, Stephen felt absolutely no urge to explain himself. He owed nobody the horror shows in his head, Wong was still the only one with the full picture.

   There was silence then, Stephen expected him to get up and leave, having delivered his message and failed to make something out of it. But instead, he sat there for several long moments, his whiskey eyes assessing until he felt distinctly uncomfortable. Before he could suggest Tony leave, the man tilted his head in confusion.

   “Did you call me pathetic the other night?”

   A startled laugh escaped Stephen. “Yes, I did. You were pretty pathetic throwing things off the balcony like an irate teenager.”

   Tony’s brief humor left his face as quickly as it had come. “Pepper finally left that day. Took her bags and moved into a beautiful apartment eight blocks over.”

   Stephen wondered if he said it to make him feel guilty for calling him that. In theory he knew he should, but after everything Stephen had experienced so far, he could honestly say he had no room left to sympathize with self-pity, a hard-won lesson.

   “So, you decided getting drunk and throwing a fit was the best way to handle it?”

   He shrugged. “It was therapeutic.”

   “Oh, I’m sure you felt much better in the morning.” Stephen said, with a roll of his eyes.

   Something indescribable glinted in Tony’s eyes, a subtle little smile dancing around his lips as he watched him. Finally, he tapped on his chin in consideration before seemingly coming to a decision.

   “You’re an asshole, aren’t you?”

   Stephen smirked. “Thought you would have realized that on Titan.”

   Tony waved that away. “It was the end of the world, figured I’d give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

   “Kind of you.” Stephen muttered.

   Tony grinned. “You know me, a real saint. I’d think you’d be nicer to the man who saved the world only to lose a fiancée from it.”

   “Yes, because you did that all on your own.” Stephen couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

   For Tony’s part, however, his gaze seemed to shift to something piercing. “I haven’t seen anyone else stepping up about their contribution.”

   To most people that statement would have been that have an egotistical narcissist, but they were both well-aware that in the immediate aftermath Tony had done everything in his power to keep the attention off of himself and instead on the efforts of the other Avengers. He had been almost vague about the events of Titan, much to Stephen’s relief. That didn’t mean, however, that he hadn’t been aware of Tony’s eyes on him during those three early meetings, silently urging him to speak up. This too appeared to be a not so subtle effort to make Stephen talk about his decision on Titan and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for an admission of guilt or victory. Though it hardly mattered, really.

   Instead of taking the bait Stephen turned solemn eyes on Tony. “I am sorry about Pepper, you know. She was a wonderful woman from what I gathered.” He meant it of course, from their brief interaction he had sensed an iron-willed aura that directly complimented Tony, but he had also sensed exhaustion and a yearning for a simpler life.

   Tony was taken off guard, his brow furrowing, just as Stephen had intended. “Yeah, thanks.” He hesitated as though unsure if he should continue, averted his eyes to his lap where his left hand was fiddling with the watch on his other wrist. “At least she isn’t really gone. It was…amicable, I guess. We’re still friends, she still heads the company.”

   Tony opened his mouth, clearly intending to go on when there was a sudden loud crashing from upstairs. Stephen closed his eyes, not completely sure if it was in irritation or relief. Tony tensed automatically, a hand twitching toward the arc reactor housing his suit on his chest. Stephen waved the move away, as the Cloak slipped into the room and stood at attention next to them.

   “What the hell was-”

   The sound of shattering glass and both men stood, the Cloak settled onto Stephen shoulders, a familiar comfort. “That would be your cue to leave.”

   Tony eyes were on the entrance of the room. “I could help you.”

   Stephen snorted, “You really couldn’t. You know where the door is, do I need to walk you to it?”

   Tony rolled his eyes, hands still twitching. “No, got it.”

   Stephen gave a curt nod. “Stark.”

   “Strange.”

**\----**

   The incident of the goblins, as Stephen dubbed it, took him all of forty minutes to handle. By the time he made it back downstairs he had sustained six small lacerations, two bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and a very irritated Cloak. The goblins had stumbled through a portal directly to the Sanctuary, a carefully devised detour created by the Masters at Kamar-Taj. Essentially all portals being opened would automatically be re-routed to the closest Sanctuary.

   Regardless, Stephen was none to happy as he made his way into the sitting room intent on tea and a long meditation. What he found instead made his jaw clench and the Cloak to beat a hasty retreat. On the small coffee table sat the rolled-up paper Tony had brought with him, tied neatly with a piece of string. He glared at it for a solid three minutes before abruptly turning on his heel and going to their library instead.

   He managed to ignore it for three days, long days of fighting dimensional beings, chanting for hours on end over the Sanctuary’s defences, and frantically studying the recent appearance of a dark and looming figure slipping in and out of portals around the world. He should probably be more worried about it, but really it was pretty low on his list of immediate threats. Ultimately, on the fourth evening Stephen had tumbled into bed, exhausted and sore, intent on a long sleep-filled night. It was very possible he would never learn.

   Stephen woke hours later to a dark room illuminated only by the greyish light of the moon. His eyes flew open, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face, his bare chest, as he lay there gasping for breath, chest heaving painfully. He forced his eyes open as wide as they would go in the dim light, twisted his hands in the bedsheet and focusing desperately on the stinging pain that accompanied the move.

   His ears were ringing, distant screams still echoing behind it. The desperation, the pain, the fear were all mixing and swirling in a sickening dance as the familiar images threatened to overwhelm him again. He might not be an empath like Mantis, but he swore in moments like these he could feel them, all of them, the Avengers he watched get torn apart, the cries of families as they watched loved ones disappearing into dust. He sat up abruptly, stomach turning as he fought back the nausea. One of his hands drifted up to his chest, touching the place where the Eye usually hung, he hadn’t worn it since they brought everyone back, since he had reclaimed the Stone from Thanos, couldn’t bear the reminder.

   There was movement in his peripheral and Stephen couldn’t help the full-bodied jerk before he realized it was the Cloak, swaying in agitation. He let out a heavy breath, gave it a weak smile before swinging his weak, shaky legs onto the cold hardwood floor. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, no matter how dead and drained his body still felt.

   Summoning his usual tunic, he made his way from the room, the Cloak hovering in close proximity, which was annoying any other time but comforting on nights like these. He automatically went to the sitting room, conjuring a book and tea and intent on distraction while the Cloak stood guard. It was upon sitting that the paper drew his eyes for the first time in as many days. He hadn’t touched it, had seen Wong staring at it with disapproval on his one short visit, but made no comment.

   Stephen pursed his lips, knew he shouldn’t even look at it, but he was looking for a distraction, anything to make the images stop. Finally, he snatched it up, ignored the air of judgement the Cloak was giving him and unfurled the paper. His eyes skimmed the words, uncaring for a moment until a strange prickly heat appeared on his neck and he started from the beginning again. By the time he finished the whole document twice, a righteous anger had taken over the nausea in his stomach.

   He stood again, the Cloak immediately attaching itself to his shoulders, the paper clenched in his fist. Stephen stared blankly for a moment, knew he was being a little irrational, it was three AM and to show up unannounced at Tony Stark’s penthouse might be a considered rude if not trespassing. Luckily, Stephen wasn’t thinking straight just then, he felt distinctly unlike himself almost as though he were astral-projecting and it seemed a good excuse as any to ignore propriety.

   So, he made a portal directly into the living room of the penthouse, just like he had done just over a week ago. When he stepped through, however, it was to a dark and silent room. The portal closed, and he immediately felt like a complete idiot as he cast his eyes about. Everything was still and he assumed the man must be sleeping, which would make sense of course since it was literally the middle of the night.

   Just as he was about to go back to the Sanctuary, acutely aware he had just left it unattended, there was a sudden loud crash coming from the stairs in the corner that spiralled downwards. There was the slight orange glow suggesting lights were on down there and Stephen hesitated only a moment before shrugging and approaching the steps.

   As he descended there was more distinctly mechanical noises and as he reached the bottom, he realized that this was Tony’s workshop. Amidst the chaos of machinery, blue prints, and robots was Tony Stark. He was currently standing with his back to the staircase, pulling at his hair in annoyance and with the other hand hitting something with a wrench. It was rather amusing, but it did nothing to cool the simmering anger in Stephen’s gut.

   He paused a moment and cast his eyes around the room, searching for signs of alcohol or whatever else only to find none. Surprising really. At loss for what to do Stephen opted to loudly clear his throat, making the other man jump and swing around to face him.

   “Strange!? Christ.” He gasped, a hand settling on his chest in shock.

   Stephen spoke with a carefully controlled voice, not at all interested in pleasantries. “SHIELD didn’t write this.” He stated, holding up the offending paper.

   Tony stared at the paper for a moment, eyes shuttering. “Right they didn’t. I drafted it, but SHIELD approved it.”

   Stephen clenched his jaw. “Are you physically incapable of being honest? SHIELD would never agree to simple consultation, not without that person being a fucking spy.”

   “Maybe SHIELD isn’t as bad as you seem to think they are.”

   This was dangerous territory, Stephen was tense and itching for a fight, anything to drain the horrible feeling in his skin that he woke up with, and here Tony was tempting him in the worst way.

   “We won’t work with SHIELD not because we think their terrible or corrupted or whatever the hell else you think.”

   “Then why?!” Tony himself seemed to be vibrating with pent up frustration, his dark eyes hard and unwavering, his tone promising he might soon start yelling.

   “Because they are _useless_ to us.” Stephen snapped.

   That did it, he saw a dangerous glint enter Tony’s eye and he was suddenly stalking up to him until he was in Stephen’s face, a finger stabbing into his chest with each word he spat out. “And what about you? Uh? How fucking selfish are you guys that you’ll only help if there is something in it for you!”

   “Help with what?!” Stephen exploded, shaking hands flying out to shove Tony back none-too gently. “Has all the alcohol kept you from looking outside Stark? The world has already moved on, half of them don’t even remember for God’s sake! Do you want me to give them therapy lessons? Or would you rather I traumatize them with what really happened?” Stephen growled.

   Tony, who had stumbled back at the shove seemed to also have been knocked to his senses. There was still a whirlwind of anger in his eyes, but now there was also something like weariness and how Stephen loathed it. He watched as Tony took a few careful steps forward, expression hard. As if sensing the tension in Stephen at the sudden shift the Cloak pulled him back a few paces, making Tony stop.

   Tony looked him in the eye, steely and unforgiving. “Don’t they deserve to know?”

   Stephen almost sneered at him, knew he was asking whether _he_ deserved to know, either way the answer was the same. “No.”

   “Why?”

   Exhaustion seeped into his limbs, Tony’s abrupt shift having made his own anger dim to a simmer. He slumped a little, wondered why he had decided to come here in the middle of the night for a confrontation that neither would win. He took a heavy breath. “Because its over, its all over and its time to move on.”

  To his shock, Tony snorted at that, turned on his heel to pick up a rag from one of his work tables and began wiping his hands. “We both know you don’t really believe that, otherwise you wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night looking half dead.”

   “Look whose talking. The bags under your eyes makes it look like you haven’t slept in a month.” The words slipped out automatically, and he saw a slight smirk on Tony’s lips, that disappeared a moment later.

   “Fine. We’re both dead tired, and I’d bet its for the same reason. How about I get us some drinks and we try to do this without screaming at each other this time?” Tony was already making his way to the staircase.

   Stephen stared. “What makes you think we have anything else to talk about?”

   “A hunch.” He tossed over his shoulder.       

   In the end Stephen had already made one bad decision tonight so there could be no harm in another. He followed Tony up the steps, tucking the paper away, ignoring the apprehension being sent in waves by the Cloak, he simply patted it gently.

   Tony went straight to his bar and pulled out two glasses, Stephen didn’t have a chance to see what he poured before the bottle was tucked away again. As he made his way over Stephen debated whether or not to drink it, he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since Kamar-Taj and something felt distinctly wrong about drinking while on duty.

   Tony picked his own up and took a hearty drink of it, eyes watching Stephen over the rim. With a sigh he decided it was time for another bad decision, so he picked up the glass of amber liquid and grimaced at the familiar aroma of whiskey. Still, he took a quick swig, struggling not to wince at the burn that travelled down his throat.

   They sat in silence for several long minutes, downing their drinks at a steady pace down Tony was able to fill them again. Tony had looked like he was contemplating something the entire time and was finally ready to say it. Stephen was just really tired at this point.

   “New proposition.” He offered, staring down at his drink.

   “No.”

   He smirked. “You haven’t heard it yet.”

   “Answer will be the same.”

   “You make this whole friend thing really difficult.”

   Stephen snorted, sipping the drink. “Since when are we friends Stark?”

   He shrugged, “Well I figured around the time we saved the world, destroyed a big purple alien, and you sacrificed yourself for me.”

  “Your ego is showing.”

   Tony leaned forward a bit, forearms resting on the counter around his glass, his dishevelled hair falling into his eyes a little as he smiled. “Right, that was all a regular Tuesday for you.”

   Stephen rolled his eyes, enjoyed the warmth spreading inside him, the way he felt himself relaxing already. The Cloak was pressed tightly around him clearly anxious that his Master was drinking, it was kind of funny. “Hopefully not.”

   There was silence again, but it was strangely comfortable. They continued to sip their drinks while Stephen studiously ignored Tony’s assessing gaze. “Consult for me in the form of a weekly meeting.”

   Stephen raised an eyebrow at the man, who was waiting eagerly. “In what way is that different to the proposal I turned down not fifteen minutes ago?”

   His fingers tapped against the glass like a nervous habit. “Because I’m not asking on behalf of SHIELD and I’m not asking whoever it is you answer to. I’m asking on behalf of myself and you, just us talking once a week about updates, threats, what have you.”

   Stephen stared at him skeptically.

   Tony let out a sigh, hand not tapping the glass running through his hair again. “I swear nothing we talk about will go back to Fury or SHIELD, unless you approve it of course.”

   Stephen was…confused. Tony was nervous asking for this, that much was obvious, and that told Stephen that he meant it, or a very least meant that it wouldn’t be directly disclosed to the organization. He could be lying of course, but he was almost certain he wasn’t. It came to him all at once then. The meetings would be the perfect excuse to get answers about Titan, about his world, all of which could be disastrous.

   “Let’s be honest.” Stephen began, taking a deep drink form his glass. “You want answers about Titan, you want answers about Kamar-Taj and you think the best way to get them is through these meetings where you build a false sense of trust while you build your protective arsenal in the background in case, we ever become threat.”

   Tony’s head tilted, and he smiled a little which was not the response Stephen had been expecting. “You’ve become pretty jaded about everyone haven’t you?”

   That stung a bit, not that he would ever admit it. So, what if he was? After all the shit he’s seen and put up with it certainly felt like he earned it. He did say he wasn’t a fan of a self-pity, but it was bound to come out in other ways. “Then tell me Stark, why are you so insistent about these stupid meetings?”

   Tony took another deep drink, paused to pour more into his glass, all the while not meeting Stephen’s eyes. He brought both palms to rest on top of the counter and leaned heavily on his stretched arms. He took a shuddering breath before looking Stephen head on with a solemn expression and equally sincere eyes.

   “Because I know that of everyone that was there with us, you are the only one that can make sense of it all. You are the only one that understands what happened on Titan and what happened to me after, because you saw it. All I want is context and…” he paused there, looking down again, “For the first time I’m sick of dealing with it alone. Everyone keeps asking questions, acting worried, or pretending I saved the whole fucking world and none of them know it was all thanks to you.”

   Stephen frowned, something sad and hurt twisting inside him as he looked at this man. For the first time in just over a month he let the image of Tony, face twisted in grief and pain, donning the Gauntlet and daring the universe to take anything else from him, flicker through his head. That was the moment he knew what future to pick, the way Tony was had stood there, broken and defiant, a man looking for vengeance but not destruction, it had gripped Stephen and didn’t let him go. Yes, he knew exactly what Tony faced, every bloody step of the way, and he also knew how much pain and peace the decision had cost the man in front of him.

   Against his better judgment guilt settled like a heavy weight in his chest, he didn’t look at Tony as he spoke. “What if I’m not ready to give you that? What if I don’t have the answers you are looking for?”

   “Then we talk about stupid stuff like the weather or Peter’s thousandth mistake on patrol, until you are.”

   Stephen did look up then, surprised. Tony shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I’d consider it a break from all the other bullshit going on.” He took a sip, his eyes drifting, seeing something in his head. “I fucking hated you for disappearing into that museum. You saved the world, you died, and you got to just slip away without anyone to harass you and demand answers. You got to just pretend it didn’t happen while I was stuck in the aftermath with all these people who were confused and _thankful_.” He spit the last word in disgust.

   Stephen was surprised when his usual indigent anger didn’t well up inside him. “To be fair you are more then making up for all the lack of harassment and demands.” Tony smiled at that, but Stephen continued on more seriously. “The last think I did was forget though. There had been a lot of shit to handle and we’ve been working around the clock to fix things.”

   “Right. Well I know that now with the dark circles on your face, I just wished I knew _what_ you were doing.”

   “Not my place to share.” Stephen said pointedly.

   Tony threw up his hands in surrender. “I get it.”

   Silence descended again, they drank quietly both men lost in their thoughts until there was an insistent tapping on Stephen’s shoulder. The Cloak, who then pointedly gestured at the clock, he had left the Sanctuary empty enough already and it was high time he returns. A glance at Tony found him staring at the Cloak. “Never going to get used to that.” He muttered.

   Stephen stood with a sigh. “I have to go, I’ve been gone too long already.”

   Tony seemed disappointed, sipped his drink and Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to start throwing things again when I leave?”

   Tony shook his head. “Nah, this is quality whiskey, not wasting this shit on the people down there.”

   Stephen smiled slightly and turned away, His shaking hands felt remarkably steady for once, which he chalked up to the alcohol. He paused, however, before making the portal, he didn’t dare look behind him as he made one more bad decision that night. “Two o’clock on Friday, if you’re late don’t bother showing up.”

   He made the portal and stepped through without waiting for a reply.

\----

   Friday was four days away, and Stephen woke after falling asleep in his usual chair, wrapped tightly in the Cloak only to immediately berate himself for agreeing to it. Wong found him an hour later, yelling at the Cloak for not forcibly detaining him, or shutting his mouth, or even killing Tony. The Cloak had hovered there, shaking in amusement which only incensed Stephen’s temper further. The headache pounding against his skull didn’t help, or the painful throbbing in his hands, common the day after a nightmare.

   “Why are you throwing a tantrum at nine in the morning?” Wong asked, with his usual air of disapproval.

   Stephen finally turned away from the Cloak which immediately retreated into the Sanctuary and simply stared at his companion in defeat. “I did a stupid thing.”

   “And how is that the Cloak’s fault?”

   Stephen huffed. “It should have stopped me.”

   “Last I checked you were the Cloak’s Master, not the other way around.”

   Stephen just glared, unimpressed with Wong’s logic as he still struggled to wake up. Wong seemed to realize just how out of it he was, however, because he blew a heavy sigh and motioned for Stephen to follow him to the kitchen. He went, intent on coffee for once and pain medicine.

   Soon enough he was seated on a stool, hunched over a steaming coffee, gratefully inhaling the scent after having just downed two pills presented to him. Wong for his part was sipping a tea, his dark eyes scrutinizing.

   “I have news from Kamar-Taj.”

   Stephen took a sip, wincing when it burned his tongue. “I figured as much. Are the defences holding? How is the New Delhi Sanctum handling the recent attack?”

   One of Wong’s hands tapped against the wooden countertop absently, an air of anxiety circling around him and Stephen found himself becoming more alert in response. Wong was never anxious, or at least never indulged in silly habits like tapping to express it.

   “New Delhi received some back up over the past couple days and everything is back in working order. Master Fumar is healing quickly and is expected to return to duty by Friday.”

   Stephen nodded cautiously, “That’s good.” It obviously wasn’t what he was worried about.

   Finally, Wong let out an irritated sigh. “Listen, the Masters have made a request, I tried to persuade them otherwise but they were adamant.”

   Stephen stiffened, dread sliding up his spine in a sickening shiver.

   “The defenses are holding for now in Kamar-Taj, but having the Eye there is making it more of a target then usual. They want to remove it from the premises until they have restored the grounds to their usual strength, they don’t want to risk a slip up, especially right now.”

   Stephen’s eyes fluttered closed.

   “Besides, after everything…it belongs with you Stephen, it chose you.”

   His jaw clenched, the headache pounding against his skull. “I don’t want it.”

   “Stephen.” His eyes cracked open to Wong’s sympathetic gaze. “There is no where else to put it. We can’t simply hand it to other Masters or transport it around the world on a whim. Most of the Sanctums are barely functional, everyone else is at Kamar-Taj, and honestly at this point there are very few in our ranks that we believe could control it or be trusted with it.”

   To Stephen’s infinite shame, he couldn’t keep the note of pleading in his voice. “ _I_ can’t be trusted with it, Wong. Not yet, I don’t want that reminder, that…temptation.”

   Wong’s head tilted to the side a bit, assessing. He was the only one that Stephen had explained Titan in detail to, trusting the man not to offer judgment but walk him through with a clear head. The decision he had made was necessary, there was no doubt about that, but it still haunted him. The week immediately after everyone’s miraculous return he had Wong accompany him everywhere, his mind a haze of futures and possibilities. The librarian had been there to make sure he didn’t get lost in his head, a very real and physical possibility in the aftermath. He had understood Stephen’s almost desperate need to get as far from the Eye as possible, Wong had been the one to convince the Masters to accept it in Kamar-Taj despite their confusion in the first place.

   The Masters knew the basics of course, they knew he had made his decision after using the Time Stone and shockingly enough he was commended for his choice, but they didn’t understand how heart-wrenching it had been to intimately get to know the Avengers, the people of Earth and then watch over and over again as grief and pain and death overcame them. But the only thing worse then all that, the one thing he hadn’t been able to vocalize to Wong, though the man had guessed it on his own, was the horrifying rush of power he had felt when he sat there with all these futures and the choice in his hands.

   It had been overwhelming, terrifying watching it all play out. But at the same time, as he flipped through the futures, he saw just how easy it was for him to turn the tide with the flick of his wrist and for one alarming moment while it flowed through him, he felt almost intoxicated by the power. It was the furthest he had ever gone when tapping into the Stone and he swore he heard it whisper to him, sickly sweet and enticing. He couldn’t remember the words anymore, had forgotten them the moment he snapped out of it, but he still recalled the temptation, how close it had been to _becoming_ Thanos.

   “You are a protector of the Stone Stephen, you can’t do that by running from it.” His tone was as close to gentle as Wong ever got and Stephen offered a weak smile.

   “What if I’m the very thing that puts it in danger?”

   Wong was already shaking his head. “Then you don’t know yourself very well. You were tempted by the Stone and still you rejected it. Most people wouldn’t be able to do that, but you did, there is nothing to worry about now.”

   Stephen didn’t respond, stomach rolling with unease.

   Wong let out a heavy sigh, sipped his tea. “How about a compromise?”

   He looked up at him curiously and Wong waved his hand making a strange metallic makeshift box appear. It seemed more like a small cage, golden and intricate, like a complicated puzzle lock-box. “This is a replica of how it is being secured right now, in addition to the necklace which holds it. This box can be opened only by those pre-programmed with a blood-spell and would otherwise be incredibly difficult bordering on deadly to break-into. We’ll pick a room in the Sanctuary to leave it, we’ll place protective spells on the room and a dozen other deadly spells to protect it.”

   Stephen blinked at it, already feeling something in him ease. “Can we make it so only you can access the lock?”

   Wong winced. “I can be one of them, but Stephen this is the Eye of Agamottto, it is _you’re_ relic. If you need it and I’m not here-”

   “I won’t.” Stephen cut in quickly.

   Wong glared, “But if you _do_. You’ll have to be very sure with all the defenses, its not something you’ll just pick up in your sleep. It’ll be fine.”

   Stephen sighed quietly, sipping his coffee. He already knew he was defeated, but he supposed this would be the best-case scenario if he had to have it back in the Sanctuary. “When will it be moved?”

   Wong nodded his head in approval. “I’ll request it for Thursday, it will give us time to prepare the room.”

   They sat in silence then, Stephen feeling decidedly worse and Wong apparently content to let him process the information. Until they both reached the end of their drinks and Wong absently summoned several large volumes from the library. He shoved them toward Stephen who raised an eyebrow.

   “Defense and protection spells. You should probably pick the ones you would prefer to use. I need to return shortly, we have taken on several more apprentices.”

   Stephen nodded in understanding, they were desperate to bolster their ranks, especially now.

   “But first.” Wong declared dryly. “What is the stupid thing you did, and do I need to waste my time fixing it?”

   Stephen looked down, frowning at the book in front of him. “Stark wants to have meetings once a week.”

   “Right and this is after you informed him about the fact that we want nothing to do with SHIELD?”

   Stephen rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “He claims it has nothing to do with the organization, he would be speaking for himself and no information would be passed on to them.”

   Wong’s face remained carefully blank, “Do you believe him?”

   “I don’t know.” He paused then, their conversation from last night drifting by in snippets, but most importantly the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation to just talk to someone. “No, actually I think I do.”

   “Alright then, what’s the problem?”

   Stephen looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh I don’t know, what about the whole policy not to have contact with the Avengers? I doubt Kamar-Taj would approve.”

   Wong rolled his eyes, “At this point Stephen there is very little you couldn’t get away with. Considering the short amount of time you have been practicing you are very powerful which you only proved on Titan.”

   Stephen blinked. “Was that a compliment Wong?”

   “That’s what they think, not me.” Wong answered flippantly, and Stephen couldn’t help but grin. “I’m saying that I don’t think there will be any objections so long as you do not involve yourself in their battles, do not discuss Kamar-Taj, or begin working with SHEILD.”

   “I could probably manage that.” Stephen muttered.

   “Besides,” Wong continued. “I think it will be good for you.”

   “Good for me?”

   Wong nodded, his expression shifting to something sincere and concerned. “You’ve barely left the Sanctuary apart from those meetings and delivering our message. Since Titan you’ve only been to Kamar-Taj a handful of times and have turned down every offer to visit the other Sanctuaries. It’s not exactly healthy behaviour.”

   Stephen stiffened at the man’s words, refused to look at him.

   He heard Wong blow a familiar annoyed sigh. “I’m heading back, I’ll help secure the room tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear your opinions good or bad! It keeps me writing and my muse inspired :)


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